


Gymnophoria

by rayeliann



Series: A Small Fire in a Dark World [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ball, F/M, Fair warning for anyone who struggles with feeling like they are being watched, Fluff, Paranoia, Post DAI, Skyhold, Victory Gala, or anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.</p><p>Cullen & Hadynne (Trevelyan) at a Post-DAI Victory Ball held at Skyhold with all of their noble allies and supporters of the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gymnophoria

“Oh come on Commander. You could at least try to look like you’re having fun.” Hadynne quipped coyly as she appeared seemingly out of thin air and circled around Cullen, slowly drawing herself up beside him. Though her eye line only reached the level of his broad shoulders, she held herself with a regal poise that made her seem much taller.

With Corypheus finally beaten, Josephine had suggested they throw a ball to celebrate the occasion with their more prominent Allies. She had pointed out that not all of their allies would appreciate a roaring, drunken chorus of Maryden’s latest ballad in some local tavern. Furthermore, drinking their way across the countryside on some sort of victory tour was far less professional than they wished to appear. They were safe and victorious, but they were still needed to rebuild much of Orlais and Fereldan, and if they were to help keep order, they still needed to be respected. The Inquisitor, ever the sharp student of politics, had agreed rather easily to the idea… on one condition. Hadynne (backed by Vivienne and Dorian) had refused to wear the red dress uniform that had been given to her for the Ball at the Winter Palace. Instead, she (and Vivienne and Dorian) had made a special trip to Val Royeaux to find more agreeable attire.

Hadynne looked striking in the deepest black, and had been turning heads since she had entered the Grand Hall. The skirts of her dress were a delicate black gauzy material that resembled dozens of layers of translucent veils rather than the heavy, rustling material that seemed to be the Orlesian fashion. She had rejected the idea of wearing a hooped skirt, arguing that it would not be very fashionable to get stuck trying to pass through a narrow doorway. Instead, her skirts floated lazily after her, occasionally offering peeks of her long, pale legs through the layers. Her tiny waist had been accentuated at the top of the voluminous, gauzy skirts by a shining black sash, embroidered with silver details of the Inquisition’s motif. Thin straps held up a meticulously tailored, tight bodice that scooped a bit too low for Cullen’s rather modest preferences.

Still, he had to admit his breath caught in his throat just looking at her. Cullen’s jaw tightened as he caught a few noblemen leering at Hadynne unabashedly from across the room. His amber eyes flicked down to her face, but she was smiling up at him teasingly.

  “Do you like my dress Commander?” She tried again, raising her eyebrows at him as she clasped her hands behind her and swiveled slowly from side to side playfully. A single strand of her dark, auburn hair trailed down her long neck as she smiled up at him, waiting for a reply. Cullen choked ( _Maker_ , had he just choked on _air_?), and his ears flushed pink.

“It is very becoming Lady Trevelyan.” He answered properly, raising his own eyebrows at Hadynne in response. He lowered his voice to near in-audible levels, and leaned toward her before continuing.

“However, I believe that Duke over there is undressing you in his mind.” Cullen nodded subtly to a man who was leering at them obviously from behind an Orlesian mask. Hadynne’s laugh bounced off the walls of the Grand Hall, her delicate gloved hand going to her pale throat as she smiled up at Cullen, eyes alight. Hearing her laugh, he couldn't help but smile himself. Smiling came easier to him when he was around Hadynne. If she was laughing, he could think of no better reason to smile. Her laughter was a pleasant sound, and after what she had been through, she deserved so much more laughter in her life.

 “You sweet man. The Duke is a terrible gossip, he’s watching _us_. _Together_. Besides, I’m hardly his type.” she trailed off, rotating ever so slightly as her hand gestured absently, brushing away Cullen's suspicions.

“However, I do believe that man over there is.” With a nod of her head, she indicated an unmasked nobleman dressed in the Free Marcher fashion who was leaning up against the wall by the door to the garden. His blue eyes gleamed, fixed on Hadynne, his mouth slightly agape.

Hadynne met the man’s gaze with a defiant toss of her chin. As long as Cullen had known her, Hadynne had always refused to avert her gaze when challenged. She insisted it was a sign of weakness, a subconscious submission. He loved the fire that hid in the heart of that small, demure looking lady.

Once the nobleman had realized Hadynne was returning his stare, she grinned slyly, winking at him. He started suddenly, as if a jolt of lightning had run down his spine, and exited the hall at a quick stride.

“Every time.” Hadynne remarked.

“With all the people staring at you, how can you tell?” Cullen asked, curiosity overcoming his protective instincts for the moment.

“Oh, you just know. It’s like a prickle on the back of your neck. I’ll show you.” She explained, her voice bright with the undertones of coming mischief.

Lady Hadynne stepped back from Cullen a few paces, her gaze skimming over him lightly. She snapped her fan to full-spread, holding it in front of her face as she peered over it. Slowly, she lowered it as her stare became more intense.

Her dark eyes sparked gold and warm brown as they lingered on him, dancing across his face. They dropped slowly, trailing along his jaw line, down his neck, and over his dress uniform. Slowly, meticulously, Hadynne’s gaze scanned over his frame, and Cullen could have sworn he felt the weight of her eyes as if they were her fingertips running over him.

Cullen felt a peculiar tingle run up his spine, and a flush spread quickly across his cheeks. He had no way of explaining the sensation, but he suddenly felt very exposed. It was entirely impractical, he was just as clothed as he had been a few moments ago… so why did he feel like he had shown up to the ball in his small clothes?

“Maker, that is unsettling.”

“You get used to it.”

“Stop that.” Cullen’s face was transitioning from his usual nervous pink blush to a much deeper red. Soon, his cheeks would rival his uniform.  Hadynne smiled sweetly at him, her teeth pulling at her dark wine-colored bottom lip in one of her more adorable mannerisms.

A rising heat pulled deep in Cullen’s stomach as the overwhelming need to touch Hadynne flooded over him. He had promised himself he would behave and allow her whatever fun she wished that evening, but it seemed his will was not as strong as he had thought. He needed to hold her, feel the warmth of her skin against his own.

Cullen drew close to Hadynne, pulling her quickly into the nearby stairwell and into a hug the second the wooden door had closed. A low groan accompanied the hug, and Hadynne shuddered in his embrace as she suppressed a chuckle. His hands slid over her sides, and around her waist, dragging her closer. One arm wandered up her back and over her carefully pinned hair as the other folded her against him. Something in his chest urged him on, pushing him and telling him _closer, closer!_

Cullen’s grip on Hadynne tightened as he let out a slow, evenly measured breath, fighting the fire she had stoked inside of him. He had self control… discipline… and they were not sloppy teens to be groping each other in not even remotely out of the way hallways. They had responsibilities, and a certain degree of professionalism to maintain, but _Maker_ , Hadynne made it difficult sometimes.

Cullen closed his eyes as he concentrated on enjoying the simple sensation of holding her. Solid. Safe. Warm. They had all of the time in the world now. Their whole lives. Hadynne’s cheek grazed across his - smooth for once, without a hint of the one day’s scraggly beard he had been fond of wearing. Her lips whispered light kisses up his jaw, and he felt his knees shudder as Hadynne’s teeth grazed his skin, nipping and pulling at his earlobe.

“Later.” Hadynne breathed, her lips brushing against Cullen’s ear as his mind went completely and utterly blank. By the time he had regained control of his faculties, Lady Hadynne had gone, slipping quietly back out the door to the Ball.


End file.
